


Going Commando

by orphan_account



Category: Andromeda
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Going Commando

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelus2hot](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=angelus2hot).



His mental fog slowly began to lift as Tyr regained consciousness and he registered a sharp pain on his right temple. Shifting his arm to touch it, he discovered he couldn't. Opening his eyes he turned to see why and found Dylan Hunt sprawled out next to him, lying over his right arm.

"Dylan."

Receiving no response, not even a grunt, Tyr gingerly rolled the man off his right arm. He was mindful not to jab him with his bone blades and was relieved to see that at least the man hadn't collapsed on those. Seeing no other obvious injuries the man appeared to be in one piece, more or less.

He guessed that their captors had merely tossed them in here, regardless of how they landed. He idly wondered why Dylan wasn't wearing a shirt and noticed that he was stripped to the waist as well. The bastards had even taken his boots.

"Captain Hunt." Tyr used a more commanding tone this time.

"Mmrrrph." Dylan shifted, moving his face away from the sound of Tyr's voice. His mouth opened slightly and he stilled once again.

Tyr seized the opportunity to study Dylan. Dylan Hunt was the kind of man that served as a reminder that Tyr's own people had been genetically based on the human race. Somehow nature had created something akin to a perfect male. Well, nature along with a small portion of genetic tinkering for adaptation to higher gravity planets.

Tyr shook his head to derail his mind from going down a path he would regret. He muttered something about the inferiority of humans and slowly stood. He began to take stock of the small room the Ogami had thrown them into. And by small, he meant that it was really small and didn't contain much.

Noting the riveted bulkheads, Tyr decided that they must still be on the drift and not in some cargo hold. The room was likely some sort of custodial closet, about 1 meter wide and 2-3 meters deep. The back part of the room contained a large utility sink with various nozzles which Tyr hoped turned on water and not some sort of bizarre cleaning solution. There was also some shelving which contained random bits of machine parts, a couple brushes and a bottle of glass cleaner.

Leaning down to sniff the nozzles, he could detect nothing but water. Satisfied, he turned the handle of one, cupped his hands under the stream and lifted them to his face. Whatever the Ogami had done to them, it left a bitter taste in his mouth along with a fierce thirst.

He turned his attention to the bits of scrap left on the shelving to see if any of it could be useful, maybe fashioned into a tool or a weapon, when something behind the shelving caught his eye. It was an access panel or ventilation shaft, he wasn't sure which, and he immediately saw it as a way out of the room.

He removed the random items from the shelves and shoved them under the sink. Having no place to really move the shelving out of his way, he tilted it as much as possible and wedged his large frame into the small space he created.

As he had suspected would be the case, the paneling was sealed tight. Grabbing a piece of scrap metal, he used it as a lever to force the panel open. What he got for his trouble was a spray of water when the corner had finally begun to give.

Then he remembered the aquarium. The Ogami were fascinated by marine life and had retro-fitted the drift with an aquarium that was spread over six decks in an effort to increase tourism. This closet must be located directly adjacent to the tanks.

_It's never easy_ he thought. While that was one of Dylan's often used phrases, it seemed appropriate to the situation. Tyr hung his head and covered his face with his palm, exasperated with the situation. He then looked to Dylan, who was still lying unconscious and shirtless on the floor. _He's just a magnet for trouble. How he has survived this long, I'll never know._ But he did know, or at least thought he had an idea. Dylan was not just a survivor, all of the crew were survivors if you got right down to it. No, Dylan was more. And more importantly, he motivated others to be more. As corny as it sounded - and Tyr would never utter it aloud in any serious manner - Dylan was a hero. And Tyr rather like that about the man. That and he didn't really mind seeing him shirtless.

While Tyr was lost in thoughts about Dylan Hunt, the water spray continued. A loud popping noise signaled the pressure had widened the opening. Realization that the room would quickly fill with water finally broke through Tyr's musings about the High Guard Captain.

He tried forcing the panel back, hammering on it ineffectively with bits of metal. Failing at that, he studied it a bit more closely and began thinking of alternatives. He needed to wedge something in there that would keep the water from filling the room. None of the metal pieces fit, he needed something malleable.

He glanced around the room, his mind racing. He looked down at himself, then at Dylan and making a snap decision rushed over to Dylan and began unzipping his pants.

******************

Several hours later, with Dylan and Tyr both safely aboard Andromeda and both fully clothed, the crew was laughing as Tyr regaled them with the story of their escape. Dylan, while mildly embarrassed, smiled along with them.

"I still don't understand why Dylan was naked." Rommie remarked.

"To prevent our untimely death by drowning. I had to wedge something in there stop the room from filling up with water."

"And you couldn't use your own pants because... ?" Beka queried.

"Yes, Tyr. Please explain why MY pants seemed so much more suitable." Dylan glanced pointedly at him.

Tyr ducked his head briefly. Dylan swore he could almost see hints of a blush on his face. Dylan may be over 300 years old, but he wasn't blind. He understood how Tyr watched him and knew precisely why Tyr had chosen to remove Dylan's pants rather than his own.

In fact, glancing down at Tyr's tight leather pants which left little to the imagination, Dylan knew of two reasons. He'd lay odds that Tyr would only admit to one.

"Let's just say that I'm not in the habit of wearing unnecessary garments." Tyr stood a bit straighter and practically thrust his shoulders back. Dylan had to bite back a laugh at his posturing.

"You mean you go commando," Harper was never one to use euphemisms when blunt and bold would get the job done, "question is - did you know Dylan does the same thing?"

...end...


End file.
